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Yep, the man missed his calling. He could spin some big ones. He'd make up a lie and use another one to prop it up. I grew up watching him and listening. He'd make up a lie when the truth would suit the best. After about the third time he told the tale, he came to believe it was true. Just proud as a peacock!

That's call revisionist history. If I'd know it then, I'd have realized my daddy marked me for my future career. You see, I am an historian. In spite of my Dad's influence, I try to keep my history on the up and up. None of my daddy's little lies.

Then there's the other thing that my daddy gave me. The ability to lie really well. He was a pro and I grew up following in his footsteps. But I use my talent differently. I lie all I want, make up whopping tales and embellish them something terrible. I bend the truth and torture the words into shapes my English teacher would be hard pressed to unwind. I write fiction.

Yep, that's what I do. I make up lies and embellish the truth and paint little ditties for the world to see and it's all because my Daddy lied. Thanks Dad, you gave me quite a gift.

J.L. my dad was one of a kind and I say that in a nice way. He could do anything, fix anything and wove the most wonderful stories of his adventures during WWII. Some of which, I've come to learn, although embellished, were actually the truth. Sorry, dad for not always believing you!

To remember your dad with such fondness is a gift. And storytelling to me is another. So your dad gave you two gifts in one.And the ability to make people believe you is what it's all about.Great blog Scarlett!

Yes, I guess it is finally time to admit that he really did give me a great gift. He was my idol as a child. He, and not mom, taught me to sew. Mom had an old fashioned tredle sewing machine and there was a cotton bag filled with attachments that went with it. Dad taught me how to use all of them. The hem attachment, the gatherer, the seam gauge. We used them all. I had the best dressed Barbie in town.